Bonds of Blood
by Dream Horizon
Summary: Tables are turned and the bonds of blood may turn out to be the most dangerous weapon of all.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**

Tables are turned and the bonds of blood may turn out to be the most dangerous weapon of all.

**Disclaimer**

Nothing Supernatural belongs to me. Well, except a bank balance distinctly in the red since Asylum! So no suing please, I have nothing but hopes and dreams!

**Authors Note**

Apologies to anyone waiting on updates on my WIP's. I have had a long dry spell which is hopefully now over! I am nearly finished a chapter for Aftershock and my Hell fic too, but this bunny would not leave me alone and I wanted to try to complete it before the Finale airs and it becomes totally AU! Hope you can forgive me!

Thanks again to Gem, who I really would be lost without! Thanks sweetie! Any remaining mistakes are mine, all mine!

**Warnings**

Occasional potty mouth only.

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**Chapter 1 **

Bobby's phone rings. It's a call he's been both dreading and waiting for.

"Bobby? Bobby, dammit, answer the phone."

The sound of an enraged Winchester.

"_Please,_ Bobby."

That strength gives way to desperation so quickly is evidence of the strain the voice tries and fails to hide. And Bobby is only going to add to it.

He watches the phone in the same way he would a rattlesnake. Wary. Watchful. _Terrified._

"He's gone." The voice on the other end falters, as if only finally understanding the magnitude of his admission.

"I know, boy." His own voice barely recognisable, strained, strangled in a noose of regret.

"I need to know, Bobby." The hunter's pleading voice continues talking to the answering machine. Bobby's head sinks into his hands, calloused fingers digging into his scalp as if he can push the knowledge out he wishes he didn't have.

"I can't." He whispers, his voice lowering, becoming rough and jagged. A voice too used to loss, preparing to give up once more.

"He talks to you all the time! You have to tell me!" The voice on the machine takes on a new element of rage, as if the brother knows he is there and refusing to answer.

"Where is he? You have to know where he is! You _have to_…" The young voice fades, then rallies. "Please, please Bobby, you can't let him go like this, you can't!"

Each pleading word tears at the older hunter. His shoulders hunched, hiding from the responsibility he has no wish and no choice but to accept. His deeply lined face hardening with the realisation that he is a coward. But goddammit, he would not be the one to destroy the young man whose defences lay shattered on the other end of the line. _My boy, both my boys._

Bobby stands abruptly and kicks the chair away from him before standing, hands on either side of the phone, spine bowed - a warrior weary and beaten and with no will to go on.

"He drugged and tied me to a freaking chair, old man." The voice now laden with confusion and betrayal. At his brother for leaving or Bobby for not answering, Bobby doesn't know. A bewildered young man, desperately trying to understand the treachery of those around him.

Bobby bit into his knuckles in an attempt to stop the hand was reaching of its own volition, to offer aid the voice eviscerating his soul.

"I'm sorry, boy."

"Where's my brother, Bobby? Where's Sam?"

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Something stirred within the young hunter, tied to the chair in a brightly lit room. A nagging pain burrowing its way through sinew and bone, a nameless fear trying to claw its way out.

It reminded him of transferred pain, the type you get when you are bleeding deep inside. Too deep to get at easily, always painful to probe but too dangerous to ignore.

Honed and trained by a lifetime of hunting and defending, his instincts were not the fuzzy pit-in-the-stomach feeling that most people refer to, the general sinking sensation when you know that something is wrong.

No, his instincts were _screaming_, a battle-cry of terror and wrath, crying out into a solitary night.

He felt the burn of failure coursing through his veins, as though his very blood was grieving.

The handsome man grimaced as awareness overtook confusion, and raised a face aged by dawning realisation, wincing as he tugged uselessly at his bonds.

Dean flinched again as his muscles burned when he pulled limbs taut in an effort to free them. His shoulders were uncomfortably pulled back with wrists bound tightly behind the back of the chair, rope tying them firmly to his ankles.

Whoever had tied him to the chair had obviously known what they were doing. But he knew that already, seeing as he had taught that person everything he knew.

Being that the man who had tied him to the chair was his kid brother.

"Dammit Sam, why?"

Only, Dean knew why. It didn't take a genius to figure out that, with only four days left of Dean's contract, that anything as stupid as this, had to do with his deal.

He pulled in vain once more at the ropes and cursed his brother's attention to detail. Sam had carefully wound bandages around his wrists to prevent him not only burning his arms with the rope fibres, but also to stop him using the slickness of his blood to lubricate the ropes to try to manoeuvre them free. A careful blend of gentleness and determination, like silk wrapping steel. So_ Sam_, it made his chest tighten.

Dean allowed his eyes to carefully examine the room he was in.

_Just where the fuck am I?_

The room was completely, totally empty, aside from the regrettably all-too-sturdy chair he was tied to, and a canteen of water which had been slung around his neck, the cord just long enough so that Dean could comfortably reach it.

The room was brightly lit, in fact so bright that, if he closed his eyes, he could see veins and light bursts, as if he had been staring too long at the sun.

Or fire.

The chair was placed dead centre of the most intricate circle Dean had ever seen, in a design he did not recognise. It seemed to undulate and twist when he tried to focus on the pattern. It wasn't a painted symbol; it was literally carved into the wood with what looked like ruby crystals engrained into the carving.

Salt crystals mixed with blood, Dean realised and his stomach twisted.

It must have taken Sam hours, which would have explained Sam's need to spike Dean's beer. _Bastard._ Dean's expressive face twisted bitterly.

He should have known. The silences, the enigmatic phone conversations. The hours his brother would disappear, only to reappear tired, tight-lipped and skittish.

He knew the signs. His brother was planning something, something that he knew Dean would not approve of. Something undoubtedly brilliant and unorthodox and damnit-he's-going-to-get-himself killed stupid!

Dean started a catalogue in his mind.

Overly bright room, protection against daevas – check.

Salt and iron, protection against ghosts and spirits – check

Devil's trap below him and one at the door and every window; a key of Solomon above each one, all carved; protection against demons - check.

He had a sneaky suspicion the water in the flask was Holy Water, especially given it was hung around his neck with a rosary.

Silver, herbs, sigils, salt lines, talismans, dream catchers, rowan and elder…the list went on and on.

The room was a fortress, a classic example of protection taken to OCD levels of extreme.

Each defense was telling Dean this was a plan long in the making; each protective charm telling him that Sam did not think he was coming back. Sign upon sign telling him that Sam had had help from someone as paranoid and determined to save him as Sam was.

_Son of a bitch. Bobby, if you get Sam hurt, you will wished your wife had killed you after all! _

Sam had been thorough. He'd obviously wanted to make sure that his brother could be traced by those close to him and had left Dean's mobile phone. Admittedly, he had left it in Dean's jeans pocket so he couldn't reach, but the kid was considerate, he'd give him that.

The cunning little shit had probably left instructions with Bobby anyway_. I am so gonna kick his ass when I catch up with him…_

What Sam had not counted on was Dean's full-blown panic and well-beyond-pissed frame of mind that had allowed him to break the chair by bodily throwing himself at the wall, dislocating his shoulder in the process.

_Damn it all to hell…_

Dean's lips thinned, hell being the start and end of this little tableau.

He quickly pulled the phone from his pocket and speed-dialled without thinking.

Sam's voicemail….

_Damn, damn, DAMN!!_

"Sam, Sammy listen to me, whatever you are planning, don't do it! Come back and we'll talk it through, I swear. Look if it works and doesn't kill your scrawny ass, I'll help. Please, Sam, don't try anything on your own. Call me."

He paused when he suddenly realised the buzzing he had heard throughout leaving the message was a sound he recognized, finally caught his attention. Walking over to the window, he could see Sam's phone lying in the last rays of a dying sun.

He knew how it felt. The fear he had been battling since he'd awakened was getting way too much confirmation for his liking and was rapidly descending into terror.

Sam wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. And it seemed maybe Meg's possession had taught him a thing or two about hiding. Yet another thing Dean was going to make her pay for.

He hung up and dialled the next number.

"This is Bobby Singer, you know the drill…" Beeeep….

"Bobby? Bobby, dammit answer the phone."

No answer. _Christ, what if he's not there? No, he had to be._

"_Please,_ Bobby."

What if Bobby didn't know after all? Where would he turn then? Ellen was unreachable, had been for months. His Dad was long-gone, the Roadhouse burned. Hunters were going to ground; too many had died these last few months, and most of the rest had been scared into hiding, or at least regrouping. And the majority of those remaining blamed Sam and Dean for what had happened. He would get no help there.

Even Henrikson and Gordon, anyone he knew with contacts to track Sam were gone.

"He's gone." He was finding it hard to breathe now, as the realisation that his brother has vanished and he didn't even know where to start to try to find him, hits hard.

"I need to know, Bobby" _Where is he, what is he planning, will he survive, why did he leave me?_ Thoughts jumbling, all trying to force themselves out in words that found it hard to navigate their way out of a rapidly closing throat.

Why wasn't Bobby answering? Somehow, Dean knew he was there and the anger bubbling up at the thought that Bobby could be listening and refusing to help him find Sam, bolstered his voice.

"He talks to you all the time! You have to tell me!" Fingers whitened as his fingers gripped the phone more firmly, tightening their grasp on the one lifeline Sam had left him.

"Where is he? You have to know where he is! You _have to_…" Dean's voice took on an edge of desperation, worried now that the answering machine could switch off any moment, leaving him no closer to finding Sam. What if Bobby didn't answer? "Please, please, Bobby, you can't let him go like this, you can't!" _For the love of god, Bobby, PICK UP!_

"He drugged and tied me to a freaking chair, old man."

Maybe if Bobby realised the lengths Sam had gone to, that Sam was obviously planning on something so extreme that he'd done everything bar killing Dean to stop him. As if even that would.

"Where's my brother, Bobby. Where's Sam?"

He stayed silent for a moment, before continuing. "I know you're there. You can't avoid me forever, old man. If you won't tell me where my brother is, just tell me he plans to come back home." _To me. _

There was a click and for one heart-freezing moment, Dean thought that he had finally been disconnected.

"Dean."

He almost thought his father was on the end of the line, the gravelled voice so sorrowful and pain-filled.

"I'm sorry, boy. It's too late."

"Bobby, what has he done?" What had Sammy done to destroy the man so completely? Bobby sounded so broken, defeated.

And guilty.

A cold certainty enveloped the older brother. "Bobby, what did you do?"

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**A/N**

Hope this is an ok start; please let me know what you think! Second part is nearly done and it's only going to be a short one so no long waits. Again, apologies for the huge delay with my other fics!

Hugs to all!

Dream

xx


	2. Chapter 2

Bonds of Blood

**Summary**

Tables are turned and the bonds of blood may turn out to be the most dangerous weapon of all.

**Disclaimer**

Nothing Supernatural belongs to me. Except my dubious theories and insane enthusiasm!

**Authors Note**

Huge, HUGE, thanks to Gem who beta'd this super fast so I could get it posted before the Finale airs and Kripke totally ruins my theories. Bastard.

_**Genius. God I love the man.**_

**Warnings**

Their language is not improving any, but in all fairness they have had one awful year!

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**Chapter 2**

Sam stood in front of the vault; head hung low, the Colt in his hands. He absently traced long fingers over the stock and waited.

It was almost time.

"You're wasting your time, Sam."

He ignored the blond demon at his side.

"She'll kill you and Dean will still go to Hell." Ruby grabbed his arm and yanked him towards her. "Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work." There was more than a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Stay out of my way Ruby. Go plague someone else." Sam's tone was tired and defeated.

"Sam, we have to leave, before she finds you." Urgency laced Ruby's voice as Sam still didn't stop, wouldn't turn back.

"Like I'm going to trust you now? You lied to me and strung me along with false promises on how to save my brother. I should shoot you and just get it over with." Bitterness etched the young hunter's words.

"Then why don't you?" Ruby strutted closer, mirroring the moment of when she first revealed her true identity to Sam.

Sam's lips curved into hard and brittle lines. "I'm not going to waste good ammunition on a small fry witch. And anyway, what do you care?"

"I was never your enemy, Sam." It wasn't _exactly_ a lie.

"You were never a friend, either." Which was also the truth.

"I've saved you and Dean any number of times; I'm on your side."

"There are only two sides now: those that can save Dean and those that can't. And frankly, if you're the latter, you can go to hell. Or back there, in your case. I have no more time for you."

Sam looked at his watch, and Ruby knew that time was fast running out for all of them. "Why here, Sam?"

"This was always where I was coming, Ruby. I just decided I would use the front door." The young brother's lips twitched in wry humour.

"You're giving up?" Ruby's voice rose incredulously. "Are you insane? Dean will die anyway!"

Sam looked at the demon. A strange sorrow clouded his face and Ruby realised that she had been wrong; Sam could never be the cold warrior she had tried to mould him into.

He burned white hot for all to see. Hellfire in human form. His soul incandescent in his determination to save is brother. A raging inferno of love and loss, courage and conviction.

He was never going to give up Dean without a fight -- she had known that all along --but she had not realised just how much the young man in front of her loved his brother, had not understood the lengths that desperation would drive him. The shard of dark within her recognised the dangerous power of the young hunter.

Not psychic, not demonic. But dark fury and bright devotion combined.

And Hell was going to have him. This tortured, beautiful, extraordinary soul was handing himself over on a platter. All to save the man who had given up everything for him. And the Pit would destroy the defiant purity and compassion, would contaminate the gentle nature and quiet strength; and twist Sam into a dark reflection of his greatest fears.

Free will was a bitch sometimes, but in one respect Sam was right. It was too late now to walk away for the young hunter. He would never escape this, and maybe the knowledge that if he somehow saved his brother might give him enough light to hold onto until those that loved him could get him back.

"What can I do?" Ruby's voice softened for the first time in centuries. For once determined to do the right thing, to trust in the strength of the remarkable young man in front of her.

Inexplicable pain flickered briefly across Sam's face. "Could you make sure Dean doesn't leave the cabin before…?" He waved his hand at the doorway in front of him.

She nodded before quickly stepping up and touching one hand to his face.

"You are a good man, Sam Winchester. Never forget that."

Sam smiled the first true smile she had seen on him that day—maybe ever. "Don't let Dean do anything reckless, will you? And tell him I'm sorry."

"Just what are you planning?"

He waved one arm. "An end to all of this."

Ruby gazed in confusion at the young man in front of her. He continued gently. "One way or another, this has to stop. My brother has to stop suffering my consequences."

"I doubt Dean will see it that way." Even demons knew the bond these brothers shared. Admittedly, the creatures of the darkness tried to exploit it, but _none_ of them underestimated it.

His eyes drifted and softened. "No, probably not. He's never going to forgive me this time, Ruby. But, this way I can save him. That's all that matters anymore."

Ruby looked hard at the hunter and reached out to give him an unexpected hug, arms circling beneath his jacket. "Goodbye, Sam Winchester." She whispered.

She walked away before disappearing into the dark of the cemetery.

"Never thought I'd see the day when someone managed to sweet-talk that hard-nosed witch."

Sam's heart stuttered and he briefly closed his eyes in resignation. Lilith was here. The sun hadn't even finished setting yet. He had hoped for a little more time.

His mind flashed back to a year ago in this same place.

"_Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job!"_

"_And__ what do you think my job is?"_

"_What__?"_

"_You save my life, over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same thing for you? You're my big brother. There's __**nothing**__ I wouldn't do for you. I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this. I guess I gotta save your ass for a change."_

Taking strength from his promise, Sam turned with forced calm towards the demon standing behind him. A young woman in her early twenties, wearing torn jeans and a bright pink top stood next to the gravestone nearest to him. A brunette with blue streaks dyed in her hair and pigtails, the quirky, lively look contrasting harshly with eyes that flashed white as he turned.

"I take it you're Lilith." Sam matched his voice to his falsely composed exterior. Darkness flickered in the periphery of his vision and he could see the swirl of shadow-clouds appearing from the corner of his eyes, billowing smoke signalling the arrival of a legion. Then, movement further out, an indication that they had brought meat puppets of their own.

Sam's mouth went dry as Lilith approached him.

"And you brought me a gift. Sammy Winchester, you always were the one with good manners." The woman almost purred.

Sam lifted the Colt and pointed it at the white-eyed monster. He tried not to think of the young woman buried deep inside the evil in front of him. He may have played the objective hunter in front of Dean of late, but each time he was faced with a demon, he remembered Jake and how his hesitation had cost his brother everything. He learned to accept that every time he had killed the host to destroy the monster, he had killed a part of himself.

And he was scared he didn't have much of his own soul left.

He never had the heart to tell his brother that he knew what the Yellow-Eyed Demon had said to him that night, here in the graveyard. That Dean, stoic and strong by day, would spill his heart whilst he slept; and that Sam, who rarely slept anymore, had been the all-too-reluctant witness to his dream-driven confessions.

He knew that he may not be one hundred percent the man he'd thought he was, that he'd been infected by demon blood when he was an infant, that there was true darkness inside him. There were moments he had to wonder just how much humanity he really had.

He felt stretched and worn, as though there wasn't enough of him to fill the whole of his own body anymore, and the thought terrified him. But the thought of his brother, dying and going to Hell for him? That haunted him more, especially since Dean had sold his soul for one whose soul was likely already taken.

Sam could almost sense the flames draw closer. He was surrounded by demon kind, the scent of sulphur strong in the air, the feel of hate and hunger swirling around him. He knew. Hell was here with him.

Sam's hand trembled minutely. The sun was starting its downward climb and he knew, unless he followed through, it would be the last setting of the sun his brother would ever see. His arm steadied with resolve.

"You're not going to shoot me, Sammy. My followers will tear you to shreds and hunt down your brother and delight in his suffering." She tilted her head to one side, absently playing with one pigtail.

Sam smiled, his face fiercely proud. "You die and Dean's contract dies with you. And I think you'll find Dean can take care of himself just fine. Your followers will follow _you_ into oblivion."

She clapped her hands together and laughed. "Oh, this defiance of yours is delightful. Do you Winchesters never accept when they are beaten?"

"No."

Sam took a step towards the crypt…

"Seriously, child. What hope do you think you have?"

"I hope that you die swiftly." And Sam pulled the trigger.

The bullet stopped midway between Sam and Lilith. "You know," The demon continued casually, "it always puzzled me why you and your brother never question why Azazel didn't do this. I mean, it's not that hard for a higher level demon, and yet, he just up and let your brother shoot him."

"Our Dad…"

"Oh yes, yes, John escaped the Pit and saved the day, yada, yada…good grief, really?"

Sam stared in confusion at the woman in front of him. He had just assumed his Dad had distracted the demon and temporarily separated him from his host, allowing Dean that one clear shot.

"Who do you think let Daddy dearest out of hell, child? Do you think we just let mortal souls wander like sheep?" The demon's eyes narrowed in amusement.

Sam had in fact, despite the years and battles, just assumed that their Dad had fought his way out, that nothing could stand in the way of a determined John Winchester. That he was too strong to give up, too stubborn to not escape eventually, and too tenacious and indomitable for the Demons to defeat. A small part of the young hunter had still, after all this time, thought that their father was capable of anything.

"Azazel was competition. He had to go. He was good, very good, but he knew his limits, and selected you as his son and heir. Poor fool. As if a mortal like you ever stood a chance." The woman sauntered casually towards Sam, who stepped away, back now pressed tight against the Devil's Gate.

"And just what did you think you would accomplish by coming here?" She smiled mockingly and Sam glanced nervously at the iron vault doors.

"Oh, my…you were going to open the doorway to hell, raise your own army?" The Demon's eyes widened. "I'm impressed, Sammy. I would never have thought you had it in you. You were going to summon an army and challenge me? You would destroy your world so easily?"

"Why not? You're destroying mine. If Dean has to go to Hell, I might as well bring Hell here." He stared unrepentant into colourless eyes.

Lilith flung her head back, laughing. "You are priceless child. You know, I think I might just keep you as a pet." Her lips thinned. "Or take you."

Her hand reached out and lightly stroked his chest before pulling her hands away as if they were burned.

"Oh, clever, clever pet." She crooned, her had reaching back out and tearing his shirt from his shoulder, exposing the tattoo beneath.

She moved closer and tilted her head towards him. "I am going to have so much fun breaking you, my love. Soooo much fun."

In a surprisingly vicious move, Sam head butted her.

Startled, the Demon fell to the ground, blood pouring from the nose Sam felt break on impact. The young brother spun with graceful ease and thrust the Colt into the keyhole.

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**A/N**

Hope this was ok, and that you are still enjoying this!

I think you may hate me for the next chapter lol…

Thanks for reading! Reviews are the new chocolate, so please let me know what you think!

Love

Dream

xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Bonds Of Blood**

**Summary**

Tables are turned and the bonds of blood may turn out to be the most dangerous weapon of all.

**Disclaimer**

Nope, nothing's changed. Nothing Supernatural belongs to me. Kicks the real world.

**Authors Note**

Is it Thursday yet?

Sigh

Ok, my dodgy theories continue and will obviously be totally off base but what the heck, I am enjoying myself. Hopefully you are too! Thanks once more to Gem, you're AWESOME! Oh and Lookit! 2 Chapters in 1 day! WOOT! I wasn't going to post this one so quickly but thought, well, Kripke will blow this theory out of the water tomorrow night so might as well get it out there haha! Thanks to all who have reviewed so far!

**Warnings**

Naughty language as always. Oh and um, those of the faint of heart might not want to read this.

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**Chapter 3**

"Bobby, what did you do?" Dean's voice whipped out and cut into the elder hunter.

"I'm sorry." The gruff man's voice was little more than a whisper.

"Bobby, dammit, tell me!" The older brother demanded.

"Sam is doing the right thing." Bobby said softly.

"For who?"

"For us all, boy." The hunter's voice seemed to gain a little strength. "Sometimes...sometimes you have to sacrifice a soldier to win the war."

Bobby felt sick at his words. Grief, harsh and unforgiving, was breaking his heart. Already battered, he was not a one to care easily anymore, but these two young men had somehow crept in unnoticed until it was too late.

He would never get past this. He had made the hardest choice of his life and in doing so, he would lose both his surrogate sons. One to a fate that had hounded him all his life…the other to an utter lack of forgiveness for the actions he had taken.

Bobby's eyes burned as Dean's voice, disbelieving and betrayed, continued. "Then sacrifice someone else, _not_ my brother."

"No-one but Sam could do this, son. I'm sorry. If I could take his place I would." _God, please, save my boys from this. They don't deserve this. Neither of them deserve this._

"What are you on about, old man?"

If nothing else, Bobby was determined to at least save the life of one of the brothers. "Dean, this is important. You must not, under any circumstances, leave that circle where Sam left you."

"WHAT? Do I sound like I give a shit where I stand?" Dean's voice barked out in brutal agony. "And if you're thinking I'm going to stay here when Sam is out there, _on his own,_ carrying our some hair-brained plan, then you are out of you mind." There was a moment's hesitation. "Circle? Damn you Bobby, how much did Sam tell you?"

Bobby refused to avoid the responsibility for his actions. He had earned Dean's anger, in fact he had warranted much more than that.

"This wasn't just Sam's plan, Dean. I'm the one who gave him the information he needed." Bobby stiffened in anticipation of the blow he was about to deliver.

"I trusted you. You could have stopped him, you should have _told me_." Dean hissed, seething, and Bobby could understand why. It wasn't as if Dean trusted many with his brother.

"He's cursed, Dean." He spat it out, the words leaving a vile taste in his mouth.

"Don't you start too, Bobby, Sam's no more cursed than you and I are."

"You misunderstand, son. Sam put a curse on himself. Or rather, he asked me to."

"He what?" Dean's voice was taut with fury, over-controlled, and Bobby knew that there was no going back now.

"He asked me to curse his bloodline, so that whatever fate befell him would pass through to whoever shared his blood."

"Why would he do that?" Dean stood aghast listening to the words spilling out from the mouth of a man he had once trusted, a man who had help condemn the one person in the world Dean needed to protect.

"Sam didn't want you to know this, but you need to understand. That yellow-eyed bastard fed blood to your brother the night your mother died. Demon blood. It's a marker, and Sam's going to use that marker so that if Lilith defeats him and he dies, well, he takes every son of a bitch that shares a tie of blood with him."

Dean's blood ran cold at the hunter's admission. Horrified, he looked down at the circle he still stood in and finally recognised it for what it was. He had not seen these symbols in years, not since he was a child and John had a particularly nasty run in with a voodoo priestess. It was a protective charm. A curse-nullifying sigil.

This wasn't a protective circle for demons; this was a protective circle from his brother. And Sam's unbelievably stupid plan.

"He left me here to protect me? To keep me alive while he surrendered himself? That suicidal, self-sacrificing, moronic son of a bitch. I'll kill him. I'll have to save him first, but then I'll kill him."

"Dean, he'll take out Lilith, the whole damn demon army with him. He's doing the right thing." Dean could not believe the words spouting from Bobby's mouth. Logically, it might have been the right call, one life balanced against many. But not when that one life was Sam's. The whole world could go to Hell as long as Sam survived.

"Not for us, he isn't. We'll take them down another way." _You can't do this to me, Sammy, please. I cannot lose you again. Not for me, god, not for me…_

"At the expense of how many lives, Dean? Do you think Sam could live with the knowledge that not only could he not save you, but that he could have saved hundreds of others?"

"I don't care." And he didn't. It was selfish and god knew his selfishness had driven Sam to this desperate choice, but protecting his brother was as necessary as breathing. He could live no other way.

"Yes, you do, Dean. You've been saving people all your life; this is the end most hunters face. You know that, you've even accepted that for yourself. Hell, boy, you're the one that dragged Sam back into hunting. You and Sam both know the risks that come with this job."

Again, Bobby, in the cold, light of day, was right. But Dean had never been rational when it came to his family. Could never be calm or coldly logical when they were in danger. Especially Sam. "There's always a risk, Bobby, but this is suicide. And it's _my_ job to protect _him_."

"Who would have been there for Sam when you died and went to Hell, Dean? The kid's a damn fine hunter in his own right, but with everyone and everything gunning for him, it would have only been a matter of time. We were always going to lose him one way or another, son. At least this way, he will go down as Sam."

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Sam felt himself roughly pulled away from the Colt and flying through the air. He crashed with numbing velocity against a headstone. Breath knocked from his body, he could only stare as Lilith approached.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Did you momma never tell you, it's naughty to hit girls?" She wiped the blood from her face with the back of her hand. "Boys go to hell for that, you know?" She continued in an almost childlike voice. "But then again, your momma didn't live long enough to teach you to walk, never mind anything else did she, child?"

A cruel smile flickered across the youthful face. "But it was such a good idea; I think I'll steal it. I'm rather good at stealing things you'll find. Souls mostly but I don't want to typecast myself."

She looked around. "A couple of hundred demons would take a year or two more to turn this world into a Hell of our own making. But now, thanks to you, I can release the rest of my children and do the work in less than seven days. Show God how it's done, eh?"

She turned towards the Devil's Gate and frowned.

"Why isn't it opening?" An almost petulant look settled across her as, with folded arms, she walked back to the doorway.

"The lock's not turning. Why?"

The sound of soft laughter made her spin around.

Sam sat back against the headstone, an almost serene smile gracing his features, returning the youth that had been stolen over the last year.

"What did you do?" She growled.

"That's not the Colt. " He laughed, "Do you really think I would bring it anywhere near you?"

He stood and sat casually on top of the headstone, crossing his legs as if he was leaning against a tree in a park in the sun. The sight only seemed to infuriate the Demon more. She stalked up to him.

"Did you think that we wouldn't figure out that Samuel Colt was a demon?"

"How…" The demon looked shocked.

"Everyone knew the gun could kill anything, so the hunting community though he was a hunter. But Dean and I figured out months ago that if he was a hunter, then why would he have a gun that could open the gates of Hell? He was keeping you in. Not to protect the world from demons, but to give himself and his followers' free reign."

"What good does that knowledge do you?"

"All we have to do is send you back to Hell, and you're stuck there. No way out. You see, Ruby intercepted the Colt a week or so ago, stole it from the demon you had left guarding it. We melted it down into a rather tasteful ashtray. Kind of symbolic really, stubbing out the flames one by one." He smirked at the woman in front of him.

"You fool!" The demon's fury flowed like a wave across the cemetery, and the other demons moved closer, sensing a kill. "You've just signed your own death warrant!"

As she raised her hand, she felt a sharp sensation in her heart and glanced down. Ruby's knife was buried to the hilt in her chest.

"No." She whimpered before snarling and raising the hand that had started to fall.

The world lit with an unholy bright flash, but not before Sam saw the white fade from the young woman's eyes, and not before he knew that his brother was finally safe.

And a soft whisper of gratitude soared out into the night….

"Best birthday present ever."

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**A/N**

Do you hate me yet lol… 3 cliff-hangers in a row? I'm evil, aren't I?

So, should I end it there, or do you want me to pull a rabbit out of the hat? Not sure if I did that, it would cheapen it, you know? But then again, I, like Dean, _always _want to save Sam!

Hoping this hasn't been boring, or over the top, or daft!

Reviews are love! Or you could just send me Jared, I could live with that!

Love

Dream

xx


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